


Family Ties

by Syrum



Series: Avengers Tumblr Prompts [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Developing Relationship, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Good Loki, Jötunn Loki, M/M, Memory Loss, Mpreg, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5139926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrum/pseuds/Syrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki thought, when he fell from the Bifrost, that only death would await him.  He fell, into blackness and nothingness, silent and empty and so very alone.</p>
<p>When he wakes up on Midgard, he has no memory of his fall, or the events that led up to it.  Found by Steve Rogers, the two form a fast friendship, outcasts in a world that neither truly fits into, but peace is fragile and it cannot last forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I wasn't going to post this until I finished some of my others, but I had another request for it so...here it is!
> 
> Based on an idea from a tumblr prompt; "Stoki! Pregnant!Steve if you please! ^-^"
> 
> This is set before the first Avengers movie, and aside from a short gap, almost immediately after Thor. The chapters for this will be short, so that I can post more regularly, and I have a few to start you off with.

Loki was, without a shadow of a doubt, a very complex individual. Thor could not hope to comprehend what went on in his brother’s mind, and for the most part he declined to as much as try, finding that the irritation it caused Loki when he simply smiled and nodded was far easier to deal with than the complex, barbed arguments that followed should he misstep. It wasn’t that Loki was particularly argumentative, though; he was fragile, easily hurt, and while he tried his best to temper his thoughtless remarks, Thor often struggled to keep the insults at bay. It would be easier, he thought, if Loki were more like _him_ , where an insult spoken with a nudge and a laugh or an exaggerated wink was taken in good fun, a mark of friendship.

But Loki _wasn’t_ like him. He never had been, and now Thor knew why. Sitting alone, staring up at familiar stars in their mother’s garden, the god of thunder found himself in a rare moment of reflection. Rarer, still, that Frigga had not sought him out to speak of what troubled him. He blamed himself, still, for what happened on that day, for his own failure to stop Loki’s fall from the Bifrost. Hated himself for not being there when his brother truly needed him the most, for being blind to the suffering that Loki had kept so well hidden for centuries, now laid out before him like the entrails of the beasts they had hunted together.

A speck of light shot past, overhead, and instead of lifting his mood Thor found it dragged him down further still. Loki had loved seeing the flare of a comet, spending hours staring up into the darkened night sky and speaking of the tiny pinpricks of light that were constant, never changing, even over their long lifespans. In those times, Thor would sit quietly and listen, watching the joy play over his brother’s face. He had thought those times might last forever. It was such a simple, trivial thing, and yet without warning the prickling behind his eyes turned into fat tears, rolling silently down his cheeks. His mother did appear, then, seating herself on the bench beside him and pulling her eldest son into her arms, holding him close as he sobbed, finally, into her shoulder. 

“I miss him.” Voice thick with emotion held in check for too long, muffled by the soft fabric of his mother’s dress, Thor allowed himself his moment of weakness, lamenting the loss of the brother he had so adored.

“As do I.” Frigga replied softly, and he did not have to look up to know that her eyes were no drier than his own.


	2. Chapter 2

The sky was a different colour. Paler, a different hue of blue to the one he was so used to seeing. It was confusing, for a moment, staring up at unfamiliar clouds and a single, bright sun, warming his cool skin. Loki lay still for a long time, staring up at the passing wisps of white overhead, trying to fix his muddled thoughts as they swirled within his mind, refusing to take form. He was Loki, of Asgard, the prince of mischief and oh what had he gotten himself into this time? Father would be displeased, that was for certain, for Loki knew he was no longer on Asgard itself and he had not been given permission to leave by the All-Father. Thor would find the whole thing highly amusing, of course, demanding stories of his adventure and what roguery he had found on his travels.

Except, Loki had no idea _where_ he was or, indeed, _how_ he had gotten there.

He recalled an argument, cross words, and little else besides. He could not think what he might have done to rile both his brother and his father in such a way, but clearly he must have decided to flee for a while to give them both a chance to cool off. Thor would forgive in a matter of days, regardless of what had transpired, though Odin was somewhat slower to offer forgiveness and he certainly would not forget. If only Loki could remember what he had actually _done_.

“Excuse me, are you alright?” Dragged out of his musings by a soft voice, Loki let his head fall to the side to look upon the new arrival. Blue eyes stared down at him, curious and concerned, set into a classically handsome face below a mop of blonde hair.

“I am uncertain.” Loki replied, honestly, and the stranger moved to crouch beside him. His head throbbed, both from trying to recall what had happened and from what he presumed was an impact wound from when he had landed.

“If you’ve got a head wound, I’m not supposed to move you, but you seem pretty lucid so I’m going to help you sit up, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, the handsome blonde - and from that angle and proximity Loki could see he really was a very handsome man - slid a hand beneath his shoulders to gently pull him up into a sitting position. Blinking up at the man, Loki could see the frown playing across his face as he inspected first the ground, then the back of Loki’s head.

“Is anything the matter?” Keeping his voice light, Loki found himself thankful for the hand that was still at his back, not trusting himself just at that point in time to remain seated without assistance.

“There’s a lot of blood but the wound itself is pretty small. You’re not hemophiliac, are you?” Pressing two fingers to the underside of the jagged cut that ran down the back of Loki’s head, the stranger drew a pained hiss from the god, muttering a quiet apology as he did so.

“I’m sorry, I am not certain what that means?” Loki replied with a small frown of his own, uncertain as to whether he had just been insulted or not. Around them, others had gathered in small groups, some pointing, others chattering quietly, the subject of their conversations very clearly the strangely dressed man who had landed in their park. From the way they were dressed and the nervous twittering of the growing crowd, Loki surmised that he had landed upon Midgard, though he did wonder if perhaps that had been his original intention. Judging by his ungraceful landing, perhaps not.

“Probably not then, else I guess you’d have heard of it. It means your blood doesn’t clot the same way everyone else’s does.” He had pulled back once more, returning to Loki’s field of vision, the stranger’s gaze flicking over his body in a way that was borne entirely of concern and with none of the heat Loki himself would have used were their positions reversed.

“Oh, then no, I am not.” Loki allowed himself to smile in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, though the stranger’s expression did not change. “I simply heal faster than most.”

“Huh. Well, I guess that makes two of us then.” The man grinned and helped Loki to his feet, looping one arm around his waist to keep him upright. “Should probably still get you to a doctor though, make sure the wound is clean.”

“It will have healed entirely by the time one of your doctors is able to look, do not fret.” Waving a hand dismissively, Loki let himself lean into the broad chest of his would-be saviour, the warmth soothing to his chilled limbs. “I merely need somewhere quiet to rest a while, if I could trouble you for that much?”

“Of course.” The blonde stranger was smiling, and Loki found the expression to be quite endearing, shooting glances at the man as he was led away from the park. Much of the short walk was carried out in silence, Loki realising fairly early on that for as many surreptitious glances he was throwing at the blonde, he was receiving at least as many back.

“So if I might be so bold, what might I call you?” They had reached the road, metal contraptions shooting past at speed, the noise and stench doing little to calm his pounding head though Loki did not let it show

“Sorry?” Steve blinked, surprised, and Loki could not help but smirk in amusement at the quite frankly adorable look upon his face.

“Your name.” Loki laughed, his head clearing and stride more confident, though he had no wish to move away from the strong arm wrapped around his waist. “I cannot very well go around referring to you as my ‘unfathomably attractive saviour’, now can I?” He earned a small squeak and a deep flush for that comment, though the man’s grip did not waver and Loki took that as a very good sign.

“Steve.” The man - Steve, Loki corrected himself - finally choked out. “Steve Rogers.”

“A pleasure to meet you, then, Steve Rogers.” Loki was outright staring, then, but Steve would not meet his eyes. Curious, but oh so endearing, and Loki was starting to think he might actually _like_ this mortal. “I suppose, then, it is only fair that I introduce myself. I am Loki, of Asgard.”

“Asgard? Isn’t that where that guy Thor came from?” Steve had stopped, finally looking up to meet Loki’s eyes, confusion and interest warring across his features. It made sense, he supposed; ridiculously attractive yet strangely dressed guy winds up in a park in the middle of the city, bleeding out from a head wound that magically vanishes faster than even Steve would have been able to heal. Why _wouldn’t_ he be from Asgard? Steve might have been more surprised if Loki had told him he was from England.

“You know my brother?” It was surprising, that was certain; he and Thor had travelled to Midgard many times in their youth, firstly with Odin and then just the two of them once they grew old enough and were deemed mature enough not to cause overly much trouble when left to their own devices amongst the mortals. Still, the final few times they had visited, their names had faded into obscurity and the mortals had advanced enough that they no longer worshipped what they referred to as ‘false gods’. Loki had chosen not to return again to Midgard some centuries hence, after being branded a ‘witch’ and having to flee, lest they attempt to burn him at the stake.

“I know _of_ him. I’ve read the files, anyway. He’s your brother?”

“You seem surprised.”

“Well, from the photos I’ve seen there’s not much of a resemblance.” Almost as soon as the words passed his lips, Steve’s eyes widened and the flush that had slowly drained from his features returned full-force. “I’m sorry, that was really rude of me, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“There is no need to apologise, you are not the first to remark upon it.” Loki laughed then, knowing that Thor would rather like this curious mortal, if only for the amusement at seeing him blush so easily, wondering if they perhaps one day might meet and if he could arrange said meeting somehow.

“You were the one that sent that thing, the Destroyer?” Steve knew it had been the wrong thing to say as soon as the words left his mouth, watching how Loki’s face twisted into something unpleasant.

“What? No, do not be absurd.” He pulled back then, shock and a small amount of anger evident upon his face. “Only Odin, my father, has the power to do that. I could not even if I wished to.”

“Okay, maybe the files were wrong.” Missing the strangely cool presence at his side, Steve raised his hands as he tried to placate the now angry god. “Someone sent it, though, and it destroyed half a town. I can get them to update the records if they’re wrong and someone else is to blame.”

“Why would the Destroyer be sent to Midgard? That does not make any sense.” He could not have sent it, and yet the mortals believed that he had? From what Loki could remember, the Destroyer had not been used in over a century, and only the All-Father had the ability to command it, that was what he had always been told. For what reason would Odin wish to send such a destructive force down to Midgard? Frustrated at himself, tugging at memories that were too clouded in fog and fluff to be of any use, Loki stepped back to put more distance between himself and the mortal. He lurched slightly as the ground beneath his foot was further away than it should have been, stepping out into the road and being yanked back only seconds before a car shot past, horn blaring.

“God, Loki! Don’t do that to me.” It had happened too quickly for Loki to truly comprehend, his muddled state making his reactions that little bit slower. He found himself pressed against Steve’s chest, strong arms holding him there as the mortal all but _hugged_ him. His own hands clinging helplessly to the tense muscle in Steve’s shoulders and, much to his chagrin, he found he was _trembling_.

“I should like to find somewhere to sit, if you please.” He did not like the way his voice wavered, or the rush of colour behind his eyes as something _demanded_ to be seen, to be remembered, only to vanish just as quickly leaving only pain.

“My apartment is just round the corner, if you think you can make it? It’s quiet, and I can make you some tea.” Steve paused for a moment, not missing the way Loki shivered slightly in his grip, realising only a second later just how close his mouth was to the Asgardian’s ear. “If...do people from Asgard drink tea?”

“Tea would be...nice.” Loki nodded, letting himself be led, remaining silent the remainder of the way.


	3. Chapter 3

“Okay, you wanna tell me what I’m watching here?” Stark’s voice sounded more amused than irritated, though Steve could hear shouting in the background that he could not quite make out.

“I’ve no idea Tony, I’m not there.” Steve sighed, pulling two mugs from the cupboard while the kettle began to whistle, dropping a tea bag in one and scooping a heaped teaspoon of coffee granules into the other.

“I’ve got about twelve different videos and a half-gig’s worth of photos of some guy - tall, dark, handsome, I’m sure you know the type - falling from heaven and then walking off with...wait, can you guess?” Tony waited for Steve’s irritated noise, the one he so loved dragging from the Captain, before continuing. “It’s you, Spangles.”

“I had a feeling you were going to say that.” Finishing off making the drinks, Steve scooped out the now-used tea bag and dumped it in the bin, balancing his phone between ear and shoulder as he carried the two mugs back into the living room, passing one to Loki who was curled up on the couch. He looked different dressed in Steve’s spare jeans and shirt, smaller somehow, clothes far too large for his slight frame, though the extra inches he had on Steve meant the jeans were that bit too short for him. Steve had found a blanket for him and tucked it around his shoulders, trying to warm the always-cold Asgardian. That had been three days ago, and Loki had not let go of it since.

“So, you wanna tell me what you did with E.T. and _why_ you’ve been ignoring Fury’s calls? I’m getting it in the neck now because, _apparently_ , I’m the closest thing you’ve got to a friend who isn’t Nat.” It took all the self restraint Steve had not to snort at that; if there was one thing he would most certainly _not_ describe Tony Stark as, it was a ‘friend’. As far as he was concerned, the only friend he had left was Peggy, and he knew she would not be with him for much longer.

“You’re being ridiculous.” Steve replied, keeping his tone as level as he could, which was quite difficult when he was trying not to laugh. Yes, he had been avoiding Fury and anything attached to the man since Loki’s arrival, and perhaps he _should_ have felt maybe a little guilty about it, but Steve knew men like Nick Fury, and he knew he wanted to keep Loki as far away from those kinds of men as possible.

“Am I? Hot guy falls from outer space, cracks his head open, then just gets up and walks off with Captain America? The press are having a field day with this, you know. Our PR agents are about ready to quit.”

“Isn’t Pepper your PR agent?” He could not have sounded any more disinterested if he had tried, seating himself on the free half of the couch.

“Well yeah, but even _she’s_ getting fed up with this. Don’t you ever watch the news?”

“Not really, it still bothers me, you know?” It wasn’t even just the content that was shown; the fact that television was such a big thing now was enough to remind Steve that he was too far displaced from his own time, lost and alone and not one single person could possibly hope to understand how that felt. Except, perhaps, for Loki.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry.” And he did, perhaps, sound at least a little bit sorry. Steve still didn’t like the guy, though, and he made no secret of it. “Look, just tell Fury where you stashed E.T. and get him off my back.”

“Not happening Stark, sorry.”

“Come on Cap, you’re killing me here.” Tony whined, and Steve could practically hear his pout down the phone. “Fury will, legitimately, kill me if I don’t get you to fess up. Can you live with that, my death on your conscience?”

“I’m sure I’ll figure something out.” Steve replied, tone dry, before hanging up and tossing his phone onto the spare chair, ignoring it as it buzzed repeatedly.

“Work?” Loki asked, lips quirking up, having remained remarkably silent throughout the entire phone conversation.

“Work.” With a sigh, Steve placed his mug down upon the coffee table, letting his head fall back on the sofa. “They want to know who you are and what I was doing with you the other day.”

“And you have no wish to tell them?” With a low hum, Loki uncurled himself just enough to stretch his legs out over Steve’s lap.

“I don’t trust them.” Steve replied frankly, taking hold of Loki’s ankle with one hand and rubbing small circles on the delicate skin just below the bone, the motion strangely practiced and familiar. “I’ve known men like them before, different country and different insignia, but still with the same thirst for power in their eyes.”

“You believe they will harm me?” There was amusement in his tone, though Loki tried to keep it to a minimum, very much aware of how the whole situation was bothering his host.

“I think they’ll try. Between you and me, though, I’d rather not give them the chance.”

“Why Steve, anyone would think you were getting to be somewhat protective of me.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Steve replied, gaze level and tone serious. “I’ve known you three days, that’s probably long enough to figure out if you’re worth protecting from them or not.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a bad thing, not in the least, but I am more than capable of looking after myself.” Loki reminded him, and while he had not as yet had a reason to show off his fighting prowess, Steve had been treated to a few parlour tricks. Loki enjoyed showing off his magic, the control he had over his seidr, and while he would have been mocked or belittled for such talents on Asgard, Steve was no less than amazed by every little thing he did, watching in rapt fascination as Loki willed a flower to bloom, or created a tiny replica of the next door neighbour’s dog from ice that would not melt.

“So I gather.” His reply was dry but the touch of amusement on Steve’s face told all it needed to. “Which is why you ended up bleeding out in the middle of a park on a different planet?”

“An oversight on my part, perhaps.” Loki waved his hand dismissively, a gesture that Steve was growing accustomed to seeing.

“Perhaps?”

“I still cannot recall the events that led to my ending up here.” Now feeling somewhat irritable, Loki moved to take his feet back, finding that as he shifted Steve’s fingers gripped a little tighter, keeping him there. Not tight enough to bruise, or to force the issue should Loki truly wish to pull away, but enough to tell the Asgardian that yes, Steve wanted him there.

“I wasn’t asking, Loki. I know you don’t want to talk about it.” It was extremely tempting to reach out for the other man. Loki was beauty and grace, elegance hiding power that Steve could only dream of, and yet somehow he was so fragile beneath all of that. It tore at him not knowing why, not understanding what might have caused such a stunning creature to become so profoundly brittle. Steve wanted to ask, needed to know. He couldn’t, though; it wasn’t right. He barely knew Loki, and the man was still missing a sizeable section of his memories prior to the fall, a frustration for Loki and a concern for Steve. Besides, for all either of them knew, Loki had someone waiting for him when he got home.

“You are a peculiar man, Steve Rogers.” With a sigh, Loki let himself sag back against the couch, though his relaxed demeanor did not fully return for the rest of the evening.


	4. Chapter 4

“I need to head out for some groceries, did you want me to pick you anything up?” Steve had, in actuality, needed to pick up groceries for the past two days; Loki ate like a horse at times, and they were down to two cans of soup and a bottle of ketchup.

“I could simply use magic to provide the food that you require?” Loki hummed into his ear and Steve jumped, not expecting the Asgardian to appear behind him, having left Loki reading in the chair.

“Or I could go shopping and do this the _normal_ way.” Steve chuckled at the sound of disgust Loki made, noting ‘ice cream’ down on his list before glancing over his shoulder at his guest. Well, less of a guest by that point, more of a live-in visitor. Loki had been on Earth for just over two weeks, and despite his insistence to the contrary had made no move to actually leave. Not that Steve particularly minded; the god was good company, didn’t seem to mind Steve’s little nuances that had carried over from his former life before the ice and did not ask any of the awkward questions any other person might. It helped that he was easy on the eyes, too, though the less Steve pondered on that the better.

“Normal for you, perhaps. I am a god, remember? And I, for one, would like to remain here and watch the Grimm marathon that they are showing later today.”

“I swear, you’re addicted to that show.” Checking another cupboard, ‘tinned beans’ and ‘tuna’ both went on the list. Despite his assurances to SHIELD that he was adjusting to his new life just fine, Steve truly wasn’t. He still avoided technology wherever he could, the thought of learning to use a computer on top of everything _else_ he was expected to pick up utterly overwhelming, and his grocery shopping still contained only the items he might have bought seventy years ago. It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to try anything new, but more that he was afraid to. Steve had no idea how to cook lasagne, but canned ravioli? That he knew, and it was _almost_ Italian, right?

“It is enjoyable, and not entirely factually inaccurate.” Loki replied, looking over Steve’s shoulder at the rapidly growing list. “We also require eggs, and I should very much like some bacon for breakfast in the morning.”

“Oh, thanks. I think we can probably stretch to bacon.” Steve chuckled, toeing open the cupboard which usually held their breakfast cereal, cornflakes making the list simply because he had never known any different; if it wasn’t cornflakes for breakfast, it was toast and jam, so bread and jam both went on the list as well. He didn’t bother stopping to contemplate when or why he had started referring to things as ‘theirs’, rather than ‘his’, happy enough with things as they were.

“Your list making skills are utterly abhorrent.” With a huff, Loki tugged on the notepad, tearing the page off that Steve had been using and re-writing the list out in an entirely different order, leaving gaps in odd places, with at least twelve additional items making their way onto it, half of which Steve had no idea as to where he might find them or even what they were. “Here. This is entirely more sensible.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” Taking the list back, Steve frowned down at it for a moment, before everything clicked into place and he vocalised a quiet ‘oh’. “It’s in the order of the different sections?”

“Correct. I have been here only a few weeks, and already I know how your grocery shopping works better than you do.” The words were spoken in humour, but still Steve found himself flushing, pocketing the list and moving around Loki to take his coat from the peg. “I will accompany you, it shall be swifter that way.”

“You don’t have to if you’d rather stay here.” Tugging on one shoe then the other, Steve could feel eyes upon him, knowing the look they would carry, knowing his own often displayed the same when he thought Loki wasn’t looking, but not yet ready to speak of what was growing between them. He wanted Loki to join him, of course he did, but the Asgardian had his own mind, his own life, and Steve did not want him to feel as though he owed the Captain anything. There was also the added complication of SHIELD - Loki had mostly remained within the apartment since his arrival, which was likely the only reason Fury had not yet descended upon them, though Steve could feel the Asgardian becoming restless and he had no wish to dictate what Loki could or could not do, even for reasons of keeping him safe. 

“And if I wish to?” The tone of Loki’s voice was enough to make him shiver, standing straight once more and turning to regard his companion. Loki had chosen a long jacket in a dark forest green, and Steve was certain he had not seen that particular one before, having gotten used to the practical uses of magic rather quicker than he thought he might.

“The more the merrier, I guess.” Steve grinned, pleased for the company, ecstatic that said company was Loki. “One question, though.”

“Of course.”

“What’s ‘tofu’?”


	5. Chapter 5

Being Captain America was, at times, quite tricky. It wasn’t the fighting; that part he had down pat. He was a leader, and he was a fighter, and regardless of whether he was alone or at the head of a team the enemy was going down. He had taken down whole squadrons of men, single handedly destroyed tanks, his actions during the war were still being talked about seventy years later. Now, he had an entire team of supposed ‘heroes’ to try and lead, and that was where the problems started.

Natasha, the Black Widow, she was nice enough as long as you remained on her good side, and even if you didn’t she was still reasonable. She was a spy, one of SHIELD’s ‘agents’, and she was as deadly as she was beautiful. Steve trusted her, in that he knew she would not try to put a bullet between his eyes. The back of his head, though, that was less certain.

Clint, Hawkeye, he was a little quiet to start off with, and Steve could feel his eyes upon him at all times, watching and waiting and _judging_. He was a good marksman, and there was something strangely endearing about his choice of a bow and arrows over guns or any kind of heavy artillery. Still, Steve had no doubt at all that he was a liable as Natasha to put an arrow in him if he were to overstep the mark, and he was fairly certain Clint did not trust him yet. Which was fine; Steve didn’t trust him either.

Banner was a good man, a scientist, shy and sweet but with a terrifying alter ego that could crush cars and topple buildings. Steve knew that the man was dangerous, and yet when he was happily working in one of the SHIELD-provided labs he seemed almost...normal. The only one of them who really was, Steve thought. Bruce was someone he could talk to, confide in, and he knew whatever he told the man would go no further. In a fight, though, the Hulk was an unknown entity. He could not be commanded, could not be controlled, all Steve could hope to do was to point him in the direction he wanted and hope that the destruction wasn’t too far reaching.

Stark. Tony Stark. The less said about him the better, really. Steve lamented the loss of Tony’s father; Howard had been a good friend, one of the best he’d had, and the news that the man had been murdered a couple of decades before SHIELD had found Steve in the ice had hit him hard. Tony was nothing like his father, not really - Steve could see the hints here and there, in his over-confidence and his genius, but Tony was loud, brash and entirely too full of himself. He could not be counted upon in a fight, other than to disobey orders and go off on his own. He was a glory-hunter; Steve had known too many of those in his life, and every one of them had wound up dead. Much as he disliked Stark, he did not want the man’s blood on his hands, if only for Howard’s memory.

The mission should have been a reasonably simple one; infiltrate the Hydra base, take back the artifacts they had hidden there and blow the place up, all the while taking out as many hostiles as they possibly could. It was a simple in-and-out, and had Steve been with his old Commandos it would have taken them an hour at the absolute most, depending on the level of resistance they found. As it stood, they were over two hours in and still no closer to their goal. Half the Hydra operatives had escaped, they had only managed to recover one artifact and Tony had managed - somehow - to drench their explosives in several gallons of water, rendering them useless. The Hulk was rampaging over at the other side of the complex, while he and Clint tried to contain the situation. Natasha had vanished, chasing after the retreating enemy in the hopes that she might at least be able to slow them down, if not stop them entirely.

“I’m glad at least _you_ listen to me.” Steve groused, smashing the side of his shield into the back of one man’s head as he raised his gun to aim at Clint.

“Only when you say stuff worth listening to.” Clint replied with a half-smirk, and Steve could not find it in himself to feel any kind of irritation at the smart remark. “So what’s the deal with you and your house guest?”

“Sorry?” He didn’t stutter, but he wasn’t far off, almost dropping his shield and trying to look nonchalant.

“Don’t even bother, Cap. Fury’s had me scoping your place since the guy arrived, making sure he’s not causing trouble. He doesn’t like that you’ve not brought the guy in for questioning, but Nat’s keeping him sweet for you.”

“Natasha has?” There was definite surprise in Steve’s tone, and for good reason; he knew that Natasha was one of the best agents SHIELD had, loyal and deadly, why would she of all people choose to cover Steve’s back in something that was entirely likely to turn out to be a very bad idea?

“Yeah, she’s good like that. So you wanna tell me if there’s a particular reason why you’re keeping him to yourself?”

“It’s probably not what you think.” It was entirely what Steve assumed Clint was thinking, but admitting that either to the archer or to himself, at least out loud, was a step too far for the moment.

“No? And what _do_ I think?” Steve flushed, the hint of red visible below the bottom of his mask. Clint chuckled, dropping the last Hydra agent as he attempted to flee with an arrow between the shoulders. “Don’t worry about it, I’m not judging. Just want to be sure you’re making the right decision. I, for one, don’t want to piss Fury off only for your boy toy to turn out to be bad news.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Muttering, head dropping as he slid his shield back onto his arm, Steve couldn’t bring himself to look at the archer, feeling at least a little guilty at having doubted the man. They moved as one, racing through the facility, looking for anything that looked important, any information they could glean at all.

“Course I do, we’re a team.” A roar sounded from somewhere up ahead, while an explosion ripped through the east wing of the facility, and Steve did not want to know why or how Tony had managed to do that. “Mostly a team.” Clint corrected himself with a shrug, standing back as Steve kicked in the next door they needed access to. “Either way, we look out for each other. You’ve had my back every fight so far, it’s about time I did something in return, you know?”

“Thanks.” Steve shot him a small, almost bashful smile, the pair of them scanning the room for the files they needed but finding nothing but a few crispy computers.

“I can understand why you don’t trust Fury on this, for what it’s worth.” Vacating the room, they met a few more soldiers, flooring them easily. “I was there on the whole thing with Thor, he didn’t exactly handle it well. The guy’s spent his whole life protecting this planet from itself, and now there’s suddenly super powered beings from outer space threatening us and we don’t stand a hope in hell of stopping them.”

“And Fury’s job is _to_ find a way to stop them.” Steve replied, expression grim. “He’s going to want to use Loki as a weapon, a test subject or a bargaining chip. I can’t let that happen.” Clint’s eyes widened slightly, glad for the moment that Steve’s attention was elsewhere, missing his look of surprise. He had seen the files, had been there, from what Thor had said Loki was about as bad as they got, and yet there he was curling up with Steve watching trash TV and eating marshmallow fluff straight out of the jar? Something didn’t add up. Either Thor wasn’t telling them everything, or there was something else at work here.

“Question, and you don’t have to answer, but I’m asking you as a friend; are you sweet on this guy?” That got Steve’s attention. Whirling around, eyes wide, he stared at Clint for a long moment, flushing crimson. “That’s a yes, then.” Clint was laughing again, not bothering to hide his amusement at the utter mortification on the Captain’s face. All Steve could do was look away, too late to hide the blush, the damage already done.

“Yeah, I guess-” Another explosion, and they really needed to get out of there, Nat’s voice crackling over the comms about a convoy headed their way. Steve was running then, Clint at his heels, the way clear as they fled the facility with less than half of what they came for.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, we've used up all the pre-written chapters now, so I'm back to writing these as I go along.
> 
> On the plus side, I have my house back now off the ex and I'm almost done with cleaning it! So more time for writing!

“Ah good, I was starting to wonder if you had decided to remain out for the evening.” Despite his sore shoulders, ringing ears and the freshly wrapped bullet wound in his leg, as soon as Steve stumbled through his front door to the smell of a hot meal and the sight of Loki’s smiling face, he knew he was home.

“Sorry, work took longer than I thought.” He mumbled, sliding into his seat at the kitchen table, wincing slightly. “Do you want me to go shower before dinner? I’m a bit of a mess.” After a normal mission, Steve would clean up at whichever facility Fury wanted his post-mission report, but he had suffered several days of hell due to his malfunctioning team and a bad mission that got progressively worse, and after the dressing down he had received from Fury for their incompetence he had simply wanted to get home, see Loki and curl up in bed, in that precise order.

“Indeed you are, but no, I should prefer that you bathe _after_ dinner.” A plate of rice was already steaming on the kitchen countertop, and as Steve watched Loki scooped a ladle-full of something creamy and pale green, pouring it on top.

“What’re we having?” Steve had not realised quite how tired he was until that point, leaning against the table with his chin propped upon his hand, eyelids heavy and mind slowing down as he was finally able to relax. He might have considered foregoing dinner, if not for the fact that Loki had clearly spent some time preparing it, and he had not seen the man for almost three days.

“Thai green curry. It sounded interesting, and I will have you eating proper meals even if it means the death of me.” The plate that appeared in front of him was piled as high as was possible, only a scant rim of white visible below the mountain of food. He was starting to get used to Loki’s idea of portion sizes - apparently based on what he himself could eat, judging from how quickly the cupboards emptied - and tucked in readily.

“I made chilli for you before.” His protests sounded weak, even to his own ears, swallowing down the mildly warm curry and finding that he did not dislike the taste. It was not quite as good as the lasagne Loki had made the previous week, after finding out that Steve liked that particular dish but did not know how to make it himself, but it was still good. _Different_ , he thought.

“Indeed you did. I believe the ingredients were rice and tinned chilli.” Loki teased gently as he sat himself down in the chair opposite, giving off an air of nonchalance though Steve knew full well the god was watching his every move, waiting to see if he might approve. Not that Steve could imagine ever disapproving of Loki’s cooking; everything he made was utterly delicious, and Steve wasn’t certain if he would be able to go back to his old diet were the Asgardian to ever leave. 

“Hey, I added parsley too, that counts.” It probably didn’t count, he thought, but as Loki laughed softly he realised that he didn’t care, taking the teasing with a slight flush to his cheeks and a small smile on his face, simply enjoying Loki’s amusement.

“We shall have to agree to differ on that one, I fear.” Despite eating rather more delicately than Steve had been, Loki somehow managed to clear his plate in half the time, seemingly pleased with his newest creation. The cookbook had been Steve’s idea; he had spotted it while shopping for a new set of pencils, a new release on special offer for the week, boasting a wide range of recipes from around the world. Loki had been complaining at Steve’s lack of prowess in the kitchen, and so it made sense to buy it. His intention had been to try out some of the recipes held in the pages of that thick tome, but as soon as he had taken it from the bag Loki had spirited it away, commandeering the cooking from that point onward, and by extension the shopping as well.

“This is really good, thank you.” Steve managed to mumble around a mouthful of curry and rice; he had eaten very little over the past few days, and despite his exhaustion his hunger had made itself very apparent as soon as the first taste of dinner had passed his lips. The serum had, amongst other and more obvious changes, altered the way his appetite worked; when he ate, Steve could easily consume twice what a normal person might, and yet it also seemed to keep him going for far longer than should have been possible on no food at all. It was useful, if a little irritating at times.

“It was simple enough to make, I may perhaps teach you this one.” Loki replied dismissively, though Steve did not miss the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, pleasure at the compliment obvious in the subtle shift of expression. Anyone else might have missed it, but they had been around each other enough that it had become tricky to hide much of anything from the other.

The rest of the meal passed in relative silence, comfortable and warm, though by the end of it Steve was barely able to keep his eyes open. Loki, if he noticed the Captain’s exhaustion, chose not to mention it, sliding the plate out from under him once it was clear and carrying both it and his own over to the sink to begin the process of washing up, a task which would ordinarily fall to Steve. “I’ll do that; you cooked dinner.” The protest was weak, laced with exhaustion, and Loki simply chuckled and began filling the bowl with hot water. They had a dishwasher; it had been delivered not a week after Steve had moved into the SHIELD-provided appartment, but neither were much inclined to use it; Steve actually enjoyed the manual process, and Loki did not trust these Midgardian gadgets, so the plastic film that covered the appliance remained in place and the pack of dishwasher tablets remained unopened.

“Go and bathe; I can handle this one, small task for once.” Once he was more lucid, Steve could only blame his exhaustion for what happened next. Pushing himself up from his seat, he padded over to stand behind Loki and wrapped his arms around the god’s waist, pulling him into a firm hug. It felt good, it felt _right_ , and as Steve felt the gentle press of wet fingers over the back of his hand, not quite holding but _keeping_ , he knew he had no wish to let go.

“I missed you.” It was far easier to admit than Steve thought it would be, and that may have been in part thanks to the press of soft hair against his cheek and the close proximity to a scent he had grown accustomed to. He could have quite easily slept like that; curled around the Asgardian, and yet he had not the bravery to ask Loki for such a thing, afraid more of the possibility that the man might leave more than any sort of rejection he might suffer.

“I have missed you also.” Loki admitted, turning easily in the embrace so that his back was pressed against the edge of the sink, wet hands soaking through the fabric of Steve’s tee as they rested upon his shoulders. “This place is very quiet without you, I have been struggling to find focus.” It wasn’t as though Steve was a particularly _noisy_ housemate, but the tiny noises of another sharing his space were comforting, and the place felt like home whenever Steve was around.

_Home._

Loki would never have imagined that anywhere aside from Asgard would ever feel like home, could never have imagined being anywhere but the palace he had been born in, where he had grown alongside Thor, under the watchful eyes of his mother and father. He missed them, there was no denying it - even Odin, with his prickly exterior and constant disapproval - and yet for some reason he could not bring himself to leave. He _liked_ this strange mortal who had opened up his heart and his home for a near-stranger, cared for him in a way he knew those on Asgard would neither appreciate nor approve of.

“You should bathe.” _Before I do something that we shall both regret_. Finally breaking the silence, Loki let Steve slip from his grasp, not missing the slight twinge of regret that coloured the Captain’s features as he turned away. It had been tempting, to simply close the distance and kiss the man, press up against him and take what he had desired since the first day they had met. And yet, he could not; Steve had kept the distance between them, and though Loki was well aware of the fact that the man desired him, something was stilling his hand. He would not push for something that Steve was not yet ready to give.

“Right.” Steve lingered for a moment, and Loki was certain he might say something else, _hoped_ he might, but footsteps padded from the kitchen and he was left alone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one for you, because I felt like it needed to be posted separately as it doesn't fit into either the last or the next chapter.

The nightmares were particularly bad that night. Steve tossed and turned in his sleep, watching Bucky fall, watching him plummet to his death, seeing his mangled body twisted and broken on the rocks below as dead eyes stared deep into Steve’s soul. “Your fault.” The split, bloodied lips whispered, the only movement from his friend’s corpse. “It’s all your fault.” He felt the give of snow under his feet, and Steve was walking then, stumbling towards the man who had been his best friend.

“I’m sorry.” Whimpered sobs slipped from his throat and he reached out, not quite able to touch. “Please, I’m so sorry!” Snow turned to ice, freezing the blood in his veins until he could no longer move, only watch and listen as Bucky’s body continued to taunt him. He could not tear his eyes away, nor could he close them, staring constantly and knowing that the words Bucky spoke were only the truth. Except, it wasn’t Bucky any more, and Steve wasn’t certain exactly when it had changed. The body before him was taller, more slender, dark hair matted with blood and pale skin purpling with bruises that were _his fault_ , lips blue with cold and death, while intense green eyes stared at him accusingly, unwavering.

“Steve.” The voice that spilled from the corpse was Loki’s now, and if he could move or speak he might have sobbed. “Steve, please, you must awaken.” Hands were shaking him, grip strong and sure, and Steve forced his eyes open to stare up into the familiar for a moment before wrapping his arms around Loki’s shoulders and dragging him down to the bed. 

“Loki-” He was crying, loud and messy, and he did not care, face buried in the man’s neck. Loki’s own arms slid around his chest and remained, firm yet gentle, holding him as he rode out the last of the nightmare, the image of death burned into his mind.

“Hush, you are safe, I am here.” Loki murmured into his ear, soft and soothing, and it was enough to quell the sobs that wracked his frame. His breathing hitched, eyes stinging, and as Steve’s thoughts returned to normal he could not help the flush of embarrassment that coloured his cheeks at having been caught in such a vulnerable position. “They are but dreams, they cannot harm you now.”

Steve might have let go then, pulled away, but Loki’s arms tightened around his chest and he wondered for the first time why, exactly, the Asgardian was up and about in the middle of the night. Had he cried out in his sleep, to bring Loki running? The man did not sound as though he had just been pulled from sleep, though Steve did not really wish to ask and wasn’t certain if he _could_ at that point. He let himself relax, loosening his grip only enough that his fingers would not leave bruises, slumping back against the pillows and huffing out a shaky sigh.

Loki did not leave for the rest of the night, curled tight against Steve’s side, holding onto Steve just as firmly as Steve held onto him.


	8. Chapter 8

Loki had been in the middle of baking when a sharp rap came at the door; Steve was out, visiting a friend, and had said that he would likely not be back until that evening. He had, of course, invited Loki to join him, but the Asgardian had no wish to intrude on Steve’s time with what few friends he had and so declined. 

Opening the oven, Loki slid the cookie sheet onto the hot rack, setting the timer and partly expecting a second, impatient knock as he dusted flower from his apron and made his way to the front door, surprised when it did not come. Visitors were not unusual; typically they would try to sell them something neither Loki nor Steve actually understood, or were delivering something else that someone at SHIELD had decided Steve simply could not live without - they now had a microwave, which Loki found quite novel. When he unlocked the door and pulled it open, however, Loki found to his surprise that the man on the other side fell into neither of those two categories.

“You are the man who has been watching us.” It wasn’t accusatory, not really, more like a statement of fact and the man’s lips twisted up into a grin. He was of perhaps average height for a Midgardian, blonde hair cut short and dressed in a fairly nondescript pair of black pants with purple ringer tee. He was slender, carrying far less muscle than Steve, closer in build to Loki himself though decidedly shorter.

“You noticed.” He stepped over the threshold when it became apparent Loki was neither going to invite him in nor slam the door in his face. Loki felt more than saw the appraising glance the man gave him, and caught the slight glimmer of surprise in his expression at the flour-covered Asgardian.

“I notice a lot of things.” Stepping back into the large kitchen, Loki was not in the least bit surprised when the man followed, seating himself upon one of the seats at the breakfast bar when Loki indicated that he should do so. “So, pray tell me why you have decided to break your cover now?”

“I was getting a bit bored, and there wasn’t much point staying hidden when you knew where I was.” He shrugged, watching with interest as Loki began clearing away the mess he had made, sticking the cookie batter-covered spoon part way in his mouth as he began running the hot water. It made a rather cute image, and the man grinned. “Clint.” He offered, leaning against the bar.

“Loki.” Came the curt reply, once the spoon had been thoroughly licked clean and deposited in the water. “You work for the Midgardian Steve spoke of, Fury, the one who wishes so desperately to meet with me?”

“Yeah, he’s pretty eager.” Clint chuckled, sliding from his seat and grabbing a towel to start drying off the few utensils Loki had already washed.

“And that is why you are here?”

“That’s why I’ve been assigned to you. And, well, that and to make sure you don’t get into trouble. I’m sure you’ve heard about what happened with Thor when _he_ arrived here, I think the Director just wants to make sure we don’t get a repeat of that.”

“My brother is somewhat heavy-handed at times.” Loki sighed, passing Clint the whisk and moving on to cleaning the mixing bowl. “Though my knowledge of his visit is somewhat sketchy, and I have no memory of it myself.”

“Pretty sure you knew about it at the time.” Frowning to himself, Clint was unsure as to just how much he should reveal to the visiting Asgardian. On the one hand, they were his memories and Loki had a right to know, but on the other, his _not_ knowing gave SHIELD a distinct advantage should Loki turn on them, though that eventuality was looking less and less likely the more Clint studied the man. “I heard mutterings of ‘treason’, and I’m pretty sure they _weren’t_ talking about you.”

“I am a prince of Asgard, as is Thor, it would be almost impossible for either of us to commit treason as we are of the royal bloodline.” Loki explained, voice a little quieter than Clint might have expected. “Whoever they were speaking of it would not have been myself, and certainly would not have been Thor.”

“Well, if you do figure it out let me know, that one’s been bugging me.” Drying the last of the pots, Clint retook his seat, letting Loki return the now-clean baking supplies to their rightful places.

“I shall be certain to, though you still have not answered by question as to why you are here, not that I don’t appreciate the company.” Filling the kettle, Loki set it to boil, pulling his mug from the cupboard and finding one of their unused ones for Clint. “Tea?”

“Please. Milk, no sugar.” Clint nodded, pausing for a moment before he continued. “The Director’s getting a bit antsy, wants you bringing in. I’m not sure it’s such a good idea, I think you’re just fine where you are, but I can’t go against what he orders me to do without good reason, and even then not directly.”

“So, are you here to take me in, or to find a reason for yourself?” There was something simmering just below the surface, something dangerous, and Clint was more than a little pleased that he had not yet been forced to pick the former. He did not wish to go up against Loki, and not only because he knew he wouldn’t stand a chance against the Asgardian.

“Steve would never forgive me if I whisked you off from right under his nose.” Clint laughed, keeping his tone light and taking the offered mug as Loki slid into the seat beside him. “Honestly? I just wanted to talk. Make sure you’re the guy I think you are, you know?”

“And am I?” Loki asked with a quirk of one elegant eyebrow, finding this strange man before him rather intriguing. 

“Don’t know yet, depends if those cookies taste as good as they smell once they’re done baking.”

“Steve certainly seems to enjoy them, so I do not think that will be a problem.”

“The way Steve talks, _everything_ you cook is amazing.” Clint hid his grin behind the rim of his mug, sipping on his tea, though amusement still sparkled within his eyes. “It’s nice knowing he’s eating properly at least.”

“I shall not allow him to starve, you need not fret.” Loki replied with a hum. “And I have almost entirely managed to purge the house of that frightful tinned abomination that professes to be ravioli.”

“Hey, I like that stuff.” The protest was weak and coloured with amusement, and earned an exasperated sigh and a roll of the eyes from Loki.

“Then your taste is, as Steve’s was, entirely awful and in need of some work.” Clint wasn’t certain if he should be offended at that, though Loki did not give him over much chance to be, standing to check that his cookies were not burning and turning the tray within the oven. “If he is in agreement, and you have nowhere else to be, then you shall remain for dinner.”

“Difference between me and Steve; I actually know how to cook. I just like the tinned stuff sometimes too.”

“Midgardians are so strange.” Loki sighed, earning a chuckle from the other man.

When Steve returned, it was starting to grow dark outside and the aroma of something undeniably delicious met him long before he slid his key into the lock, letting himself in. He had not expected the sound of voices from his living room, or the accompanying laughter that was unmistakably Loki. Shucking out of his coat and leaving it on the peg, Steve toed off his boots and padded silently through to the living room.

“Ah good, you’re home.” Loki stood from his seat, offering Steve a broad smile as he stepped around the coffee table, fingers briefly grazing the back of the Captain’s hand as he passed, the tiny mark of affection not going unnoticed by the archer perched upon the couch. “Dinner shall be ready soon, and your friend shall be staying for it, provided you have no objections?”

“What? Oh, no, of course. I mean, that’s fine.” Steve watched Loki saunter away before turning his attention back to Clint, equal parts confused and concerned at the archer’s presence there.

“Relax, I’m not here to steal your boy.” With a low chuckle, Clint shifted over on the couch so that Steve might sit, and after a moment’s hesitation the Captain did so, though his tension was still painfully obvious.

“Why are you here?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Steve realised just how rude they sounded, wincing. “Sorry, what I mean is, you had to have had a reason for coming over. You knew I was out with Nat today, which meant you wanted me gone. You could have quite easily used the opportunity to take Loki in, and you haven’t.”

“Well, it was a choice between having Fury pissed at me and having _you_ pissed at me.” Clint replied smoothly, not in the least bit offended by Steve’s initial sharpness. “And I can live with having Fury pissed at me.”

“Thanks.” Steve felt something warm start to bloom, smiling at the man he was slowly starting to call a friend. “So, what, you were feeling lonely up on your perch?”

“He was baking cookies, man! How’s a guy supposed to resist that?” Steve could not help the quiet chuckle that escaped at the pleading look upon Clint’s face. Feigned, he knew, but it was amusing nonetheless, the archer’s brows drawing together and the corners of his mouth turning down.

“And what do you think?” He asked, grabbing at one of the few remaining cookies upon the plate; once again they had not managed to survive to the icing stage, though Steve found he did not mind one bit. Hopefully Loki didn’t mind too much either.

“He seems _nice_. Like, ‘I’ll kick your ass if you cross me’ nice, but you probably need that in your life. Wicked sense of humour too, I can completely see why you’d want to keep him around. Being easy on the eyes doesn’t hurt either; the whole alien thing notwithstanding, he’s one of the best looking guys I’ve ever met, and if you don’t hurry the hell up and kiss him someone else just _might_.” Clint’s grin grew progressively wider as Steve’s face turned progressively redder, his embarrassment palpable. “Nat’ll approve.” He added, and that only seemed to make things worse.

“I meant the cookies!” Steve protested quietly, practically radiating heat from the flush on his cheeks.

“Oh. Yeah those were pretty good.” Clint agreed, looking entirely too pleased with himself for making the Captain blush for the attempt at a slightly guilty expression to have any sort of effect.

“I can’t just-”

“Why not? _Other_ people do, so why can’t you? Because he’s a guy?”

“No, I mean-” Sighing to himself, _hoping_ that Loki would not be able to hear their conversation, Steve reached up with both hands to rub at his face. “I’ve known for years that I’m... _that_ way. It stops bothering you after a while, and as long as you keep it secret you don’t get hurt.”

“Things aren’t like that any more.” Clint replied, giving the Captain’s shoulder a squeeze. “There’s always going to be the occasional idiot who thinks it’s their God-given right to give you shit, but people are on the whole a lot more accepting.”

“He’s missing half of his memories, Clint!” The protest fell flat when all Clint did was to wave it away, seemingly unimpressed with the excuse.

“I’m sure we can figure out how to get them back.” If only it were that simple, Steve thought; though Clint certainly seemed to believe that it was, or was putting on a very convincing show of believing his own words.

“Yeah, and what happens if, when he _does_ remember, it turns out he’s got someone back home? What happens to me if I let myself fall for the guy, and then lose him?” There it was, out in the open at last; the one thing that had been eating away at Steve from the inside from the very first time he had met the Asgardian. It hurt, his chest ached, and Steve was convinced that those psychiatrists who professed that speaking of what troubled you would help it to resolve itself were lying through their teeth.

“Bit late for that; you’ve already fallen for him.” Tone soft and voice low, Clint was almost tempted to draw the man into a hug. Almost, but not quite. He had to remind himself that this _wasn’t_ Tony he was dealing with - thankfully - and that he had no idea how Steve would react to that level of physical intimacy.

“Yeah, I know I have.” Steve sighed, hands knotting together in his lap and drawing his gaze.

“He’s fallen for you, too.”

“What?” Head snapping to the side, Steve fixed Clint with a firm yet surprised stare, though the archer was certain that the Captain’s surprise lay more with his apparent unease at Clint’s appearance and subsequent conversation with Loki while Steve was not present, rather than any real shock at finding out Loki was as enamoured with Steve as Steve was with Loki. Clint could practically see the thoughts blooming within his friend’s mind; _what has he said? Did Loki tell him that?_ It might have been sweet, if it wasn’t entirely infuriating.

“Don’t play dumb Steve, you know he has. So you need to either figure out whatever you guys have got, and damn the consequences, or you need to break off this not-quite-relationship that you’ve got going on, because it is _painful_ to watch right now.”

“Yeah.” Steve replied, shoulders slumped, and he wasn’t quite sure exactly which part he was agreeing with.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, strange and short chapter! I should probably apologise for this...a lot of this chapter is me feeding my own need for Nat and Clint to hang out as not-quite-siblings who irritate one another and make bets against one another. I've tried not to make it TOO gratuitous but feel free to skip the second half if you're not interested.

“Something is bothering you.” Loki had curled himself up against Steve’s side on the couch, leaning into the warmth of the other man like an oversized cat, one leg stretched out across the couch cushions. It was almost automatic, the way Steve’s arm had wrapped around his shoulder, pulling the Asgardian close and holding him there.

“Maybe.” Steve agreed softly, tightening his hold, feeling how Loki tensed slightly against him, concern evident.

“Has your friend said something to upset you?”

“No, nothing like that.” The exhalation of breath was not quite a sigh, and it served only to exacerbate the apprehension growing within Loki’s chest. “He made a good case for something I’ve been stubbornly ignoring for a bit too long.”

“Steve, if you wish to speak of it, I am more than willing to listen and perhaps advise.” He felt Loki shift against him as the Asgardian spoke, a slender arm wrapping around his waist to rest on his hip.

“I know, and I will, just-” Steve paused, tongue flicking out nervously to moisten his lips. “Not yet.” As he turned to glance down at the man in his arms, Steve felt his heart stutter as something clicked into place. Loki was staring up at him, bright green eyes intense enough to take Steve’s breath away, and close enough that to close the distance between them and kiss those slightly parted lips would be entirely too easy.

“When you are ready, I will be here.” Loki must have felt his tension, or at least seen the warring emotions upon Steve’s face, because after a moment he turned away, reaching out to grasp the television remote. Steve felt both relief and disappointment; the decision, for the moment, had been made for him, and Loki was giving him the space - so to speak - to figure things out for himself. The silence that stretched between them was not uncomfortable, but the tension and strange electricity was still present, and although he could not yet act upon it Steve knew he had already made his choice.

* * *

“Oh for the love of-” Clint shifted slightly in his spot one building over, legs going numb from sitting for so long, high-powered binoculars focused on the living room window. From his position, he could see the pair curled up on the couch, and for a long, agonising moment he had truly thought his little chat with Steve had had the desired effect.

But no, the Captain _had_ to chicken out. Clint had no idea what he was going to do with the man.

“No progress?” The laughter in Nat’s voice was evident down his phone, which he had propped between his ear and shoulder. “Want me to head over and beat some sense into them?”

“No, I’m good.” Clint groused, which only caused her laughter to intensify.

“Clearly.” She snickered, voice going faint for a moment then coming back strong, as though she was reaching for something. “You’re doing such a good job there by yourself.”

“Not my fault! Cap’s a stubborn bastard.”

“Think he’ll make a move on his own?”

“Not sure.” Clint frowned, shifting again, watching as Loki stood from the couch and disappeared from sight. He could see Steve staring after him, unable to see the expression on the man’s face from where he sat. “He’s got it pretty bad, but he’s honourable to a fault. Seems to think Loki might have someone back on Asgard and doesn’t want to tread on anyone’s toes.” Not that he could particularly blame the guy; Clint certainly wouldn’t want to go up against an Asgardian, particularly if Thor’s strength was anything to go by.

“What about Loki, think he’s a better bet?”

“He won’t make a move until Steve does, though he’s dropping enough hints.” As he watched, Loki reappeared, passing a mug to Steve and curling up again with his own, resuming their previous positions. “The guy’s smitten.”

“What’re they doing at the moment?”

“Cuddling on the couch.”

“They’re _cuddling_?” Nat asked, with a bark of laughter that, had he not known her quite so well, Clint might have been certain she hadn’t truly meant to let loose. “I’m heading over, I _need_ to see that!” Before Clint could respond, the line went dead, her laughter still ringing in his ears.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be messing with the timeline a LITTLE bit with this, though I'm hoping not to change TOO much.
> 
> There are things happening in the background that neither Steve nor Loki are aware of that tie in with events from the first Avengers film, they just have to happen a bit differently since Loki's not there to break things...

“Loki?” Pushing the front door closed with a click behind him, Steve padded through into the living room, clutching a box in his hands and practically vibrating with nerves. He frowned upon reaching their shared space and finding it deserted, wandering first into his own room, and then to the one Loki had taken up at least partial residence in - they still had not discussed Loki’s frequent presence in Steve’s own bed at night, just as they had not discussed the nightmares that plagued Steve’s dreams. One would accompany the other, and Steve was certainly not ready to open up about those yet.

“Were you looking for me?” The soft smile of greeting froze upon Steve’s face as he turned, eyes widening impossibly when Loki stepped from the bathroom, hair wet and towel slung low upon slim hips. A sheen of water still glistened upon his skin, and although he knew he must have been staring, Steve simply could not tear his eyes away.

“Um…” Eloquent as usual, and Loki merely chuckled, heading back to his bedroom to dress, Steve’s eyes following him the entire way. Loki was all tight muscle and pale skin, every inch of him porcelain perfection, and as Steve watched a droplet of water slid down the Asgardian’s back, over his shoulder blade and down his spine, disappearing into the towel that hid his modesty. He was entirely beautiful, and as he vanished into the bedroom Steve very nearly found himself following.

“Did you need me for something?” Loki called from within his room, the shift of cloth indicating that he had dropped the towel, an image which Steve’s mind helpfully created for him without his bidding. He had to lean against the wall, for fear of falling as all the blood in his brain seemed to flow south at that one moment, leaving him with very little left to actually think.

“Oh, I just…” Steve paused, swallowing around the nervous lump in his throat. “I wanted to ask a favour.” He forced himself to loosen his grip on the box in his hands, already having crushed part of it in his distracted state.

“A favour? I am intrigued, I’m not certain that you have actually asked for anything from me since my arrival.” Not that it had stopped him from giving what he could to the other man. His amusement evident, Loki’s voice muffled for a moment as he dressed. “Please, do continue.”

“I, ah...I went to see Peggy today.” Pausing, Steve looked up when the partially closed door opened and Loki stepped out, hair still wet yet thankfully clothed. The black jeans were ones Steve had bought for Loki a short time after he had first moved in, though the v-neck tee was one that Steve knew well, considering he had worn it himself on more than a few occasions. It was too large for the Asgardian, but if anything that seemed to help with the ‘look’ Loki was going for. It was...cute, really, and Steve’s lips twitched up in a fond smile, libido in check for the moment at least.

“Is she well?” It may have sounded conversational, though Steve was well aware that Loki held a genuine interest where the woman was concerned. Though they had not yet met one another, Steve had regaled the Asgardian with all the tales of his time before the ice, his adventures with Bucky, and everything he could possibly remember about Peggy. It had led Loki to dub her ‘a remarkable woman’, and Steve could only agree.

“She wants to meet you.”

“Oh? You have spoken of me to her?” Loki looked genuinely surprised at that, and perhaps a little flattered, the smile that split his face enough to make Steve’s heart flutter in his chest. “I would be honoured to, I know how much she means to you.”

“Well, why wouldn’t I? You mean a lot to me too.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Steve realised the implications, flushing a deep crimson and dipping his head in embarrassment.

“You are important to me also, Steve Rogers.” The hand upon his shoulder made Steve look up, and Loki was so close he thought for a moment the man was surely going to kiss him, thumb swiping up to then run a gentle trail down Steve’s neck. He did not, though, and even as he pulled away Steve’s heart refused to cease the relentless pounding against his ribcage.

“She’s in a nursing home, in Washington. It’s a bit of a distance, so I can hire a car if you want? I don’t think you’d like being on the back of my bike for almost four hours.”

“A car would certainly be preferable, though I can return us here swiftly enough once the visit is through, if you do not mind the use of my magic?”

“You can do that?” Steve asked, nose crinkling as he considered the idea. It shouldn’t have surprised him, not really; Loki seemed to be able to do almost anything, so of course teleportation would not be out of the question. “That would be...yeah, thanks.” He smiled broadly; the less time they had to spend travelling, the more time they could spend with Peggy, and he still had so much he wanted to speak with her about.

“So when had you hoped to go?”

“I’m being sent out on mission tomorrow, so after that? If you don’t mind, that is.” Pausing, Steve winced, remembering the box in his hands once more. “There is one other thing, though. It’s a SHIELD owned nursing home, visitors have to be screened before they’re allowed in.”

“Which may cause us some inconvenience.” Nodding slowly in agreement, Loki considered their options for a moment. Not visiting was certainly not an option; he wished to put a face to this woman Steve held in such high esteem, to speak with her himself. Sneaking in might work, but it would put Steve at risk if they were found out; a very real option even with Loki’s magic.

“I can manage it, but I’m going to have to talk to Fury.” 

“And he will demand a meeting.” Something which Steve had been actively working against ever since Loki’s arrival, and he was clearly not pleased with the prospect of the director getting his way and having access to the Asgardian. Loki, however, found the idea of meeting with Fury to be of some interest. This was the man who pulled the strings, who sent Steve out on missions that were clearly dangerous, a fact which Loki did not particularly like.

“Exactly.” Steve nodded, looking decidedly unhappy about the whole thing. “He’s not going to let this one go.”

“Then I shall meet with the man. He cannot be so terrible as you make out, Steve, else you would not so willingly work for him.” Loki reasoned, reaching out to brush his fingers across the back of Steve’s hand, hoping to reassure the man that all would be well, regardless of what happened.

“Maybe.” The frown had not abated, but Steve was able to at least relax a little, knowing that Loki did not mind overmuch. “Oh, I bought you these, as well.” He passed the now half destroyed box over to the Asgardian, wincing at the battered appearance.

“Bribery?” Lifting one elegant brow, Loki tugged open the lid, revealing three perfect cupcakes and one rather squashed one. “You could have asked for more than a visit to your friend with these.” He teased, swiping a finger through the frosting that had been crushed into the lid of the box where Steve had squeezed too hard before sucking the digit clean, the act a little too sinful for Steve’s already over-sensitised mind.

“I needed to ask you a favour, it’s only right to offer a gift in return.” It might have been a protest, if not for the realisation that what Steve had described was, indeed, bribery.

“And I happily accept your gift.” Loki chuckled with a glint of mischief in his eye, breezing past Steve towards the living room and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek as he went, leaving a slight smear of chocolate on the Captain’s flushed skin.


	11. Chapter 11

As Steve had expected, Nick Fury had denied Loki access to see Peggy until he had been vetted by the director, personally. Not entirely unusual for such a high-profile agent, even if she had retired years previous, and certainly not considering the circumstances. The meeting had been agreed on, a date and time arranged, and although Steve had expected to have to fight his case tooth and nail to remain with Loki during the visit, the director had not questioned it even once. A surprise, though not an unpleasant one, and as Steve strode through the stark corridors to the meeting room where he knew Fury waited, Loki at his side, he wondered if perhaps he had misjudged the man.

The meeting itself, however, showed that he had not. “ _No one_ gets to touch him.” Steve snarled, mouth twisting unpleasantly, putting himself between Loki and Fury as the three nameless agents in the room shifted into an attack stance, ready to draw their weapons.

“Stand down, soldier.” Fury snapped, single eye narrowing dangerously, well aware of how precarious a position he was in. He had an unstable super soldier with a protective streak in front of him, along with an almost-god who had yet to show what he was capable of. Stark was at his back, his presence at the meeting a requirement for what Fury had proposed, and agent Romanov was lingering at the edge of the table. He knew she was loyal to SHIELD, but she was also loyal to Steve, and if he were to turn on them Fury wasn’t certain which side she would pick. Stark was also an unknown; he was as likely to take a back seat in any conflict as he was to join in.

“Not going to happen, sir.” Eyes flashing with a barely constrained anger, Steve stared down his superior, having every intention of fighting every single person in that facility if he truly had to. What Fury had proposed was, well...it was barbaric. He had been entirely right, it seemed; they wanted to use Loki as a test subject, to develop container technology, counter-measures that might be able to stop or at least slow any Asgardian who might take offense the the Earth’s continued presence. Add onto that Loki’s impressive magical ability, and Fury had a guinea pig worth more than his weight in gold.

“Don’t you realise who he is, Rogers? Loki Silvertongue, god of lies, of _deceit_. Okay, so maybe the information we got from Thor is unreliable, but the myths apparently came from somewhere.” The argument sounded weak, though at that point Steve wasn’t entirely certain whether his own bias was making it so. Not that he cared; not a single person in that room, except for perhaps Natasha, knew Loki beyond the face, the name and the reputation.

“No, I know perfectly well who he is.” Steve replied, tone dangerous. “The question is, do you?”

“Well, why don’t you _enlighten_ us, then?” Fury’s frustration with the situation was clearly starting to show, and while Loki had neither said nor done anything to exacerbate the situation, he had no doubt that the Asgardian would stand in Steve’s defence were he to try to have the Captain removed.

“He’s Loki, of Asgard. He watches too much television and complains that I don’t own enough books. His feet are _always_ cold and he likes to try to warm them on me. He loves pumpkin pie and will eat the filling right out of the can if I let him, and he’s got this _look_ , all mischief and teasing, that he gives me when I catch him. He likes to play pranks, and I still haven’t gotten all the glitter out of my socks from the last one. Despite what you might think, his favourite colour isn’t green, it’s blue, and he cried when we watched the Notebook.” Steve paused for only a moment when Loki’s hand moved to gently rest upon his hip, wishing he could turn to look at the Asgardian, to see what he might be thinking. “He has a sweet tooth a mile wide and always hogs the covers. He loves his brother and mother to a fault, and while he hasn’t said anything I can see how much he misses them. He refuses to eat cauliflower and knows more about tea than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Shit.” Tony was laughing, shaking his head and earning a glare from Fury, though at least that dragged his attention away from Steve for a moment. “Sorry Director, I’m with Spangles on this one. Pretty sure he knows the guy he’s practically _married_ to a bit better than the guy you got your info off and a few musty fairy stories.”

“We’re not even courting.” Steve replied quietly, feeling the flush that coloured his cheeks. “We can’t get married.”

“Yeah, for the record no one says ‘courting’ any more, and did no one tell you that gay marriage is a thing now?” The smirk on Stark’s face only widened as Steve’s blush deepened, taking immense pleasure in the Captain’s embarrassment now that the tension had broken at least somewhat. He had certainly not envisioned that his first meeting with the apparent love of Steve’s life to contain quite so much shouting. A little, perhaps, but not the screaming match that Fury and Cap seemed determined to have.

“Can we please get back to the issue at hand? Thor-”

“Is not here.” Loki interjected smoothly, catching and holding Fury’s attention. “More’s the pity, I should very much like to speak with my brother to find out what has actually transpired for you to loathe and fear me so intensely.”

“You sent a robot to destroy a town, that’s an act of terrorism and a pretty damn good reason to want your ass off our planet.” It seemed that some of Fury’s anger had evaporated, leaving frustration simmering just below the surface.

“The Destroyer? No, I can assure you I did not. Only the All Father has the power to command the Destroyer. I would not have been able to had I even wished to, which I would like to add I do not.”

“So this ‘All Father’ sent that thing?” Calm curiosity followed the retreat of anger; he was well aware of the existence of this ‘All Father’, though beyond that the records were vague at best. From what Fury could gather, he was in effect the king of all Asgard, holding immense power, more than any other Asgardian in fact. His assumption was that this power had somehow been transferred at the time of coronation, and that whoever sat as regent would have access to it, though that was merely a theory.

“I cannot say, I have no memories of anything which might have infuriated him enough to do such a thing, and we have ever been the silent protectors of Midgard. To send it, unprovoked and without reason, would be an act of war and yet I see no further signs of advancement from Asgard so I do not believe that would have been his intention.”

“So what you’re saying is that you don’t know any more than we do.” With a certain amount of grim acceptance, Fury was forced to accept that Loki was likely telling the truth, at the least about the memory loss. Besides, Captain America was vouching for him, which meant that to continue to fight against the facts laid before him would simply end up looking as though the director was harboring some sort of vendetta, and could lose him his position if he wasn’t careful.

“Yes, Director, that is precisely what I am saying.” Loki agreed with an elegant wave of his hand, having remained almost frustratingly calm throughout the entire altercation. It had meant that Fury had been entirely unable to read the man, and still had no idea as to his motives or what he might be thinking. The only tell Loki had allowed him to see was the affectionate glance at Steve during the Captain’s tirade, and the fairly obvious curl of his arm around Steve’s waist.

“Look, I’m going to be honest with you, I have no reason to believe anything you’re saying. But, I have no reason to believe anything Thor told us either.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Fury moved so that he might have a clear line to Loki, the act of speaking past Steve being something of an annoyance.

“Thor would not knowingly lie. I know my brother, he deals only in truths.” Or, at the very least, what he believed to be true. It had continued to concern Loki, that Thor would have so willingly spilled information about Loki that was clearly untrue, because it meant that Thor had believed what he was saying. And yet, from what Loki had been told since his arrival, from what he had heard, it couldn’t be true. He wouldn’t do something like that, _couldn’t_ even.

“Alright, that’s fair. What I’m saying is this; you haven’t given us any reason to trust you yet, but you haven’t given us any reason to distrust you either, and Captain Rogers seems to think you’re trustworthy, so I’d like to propose a deal.”

“Oh? What did you have in mind?”

“No needles. No tests, not on you directly, but I want information. I want something I can use, if we’re attacked, to defend ourselves with. I want you working with our top scientists to figure this thing out.” It wasn’t ideal, and certainly not what Fury had hoped for, but it would do until the Captain could be talked around, or until Loki could be convinced.

“That sounds fair.” Loki nodded slowly in agreement, lips twitching upwards in a small smile. “And in return, you will allow me to remain as I am?”

“You plan on sticking around then?” Stark grinned, and something flashed across his face, something Loki could not yet decipher. He had met the man a scant half hour previous; it would take more than that to learn how he thought, though he filed the expression away for later contemplation.

“I have no desire to leave at this point, and certainly not until I have unravelled the circumstances behind my being here in the first place.” There was no masking the pleased look that contorted Steve’s features, and though Loki only caught it out of the corner of his eye, it was enough to know that his words had had their intended effect. “Besides, I cannot leave Steven to fend for himself; he would simply starve to death.” The flush and slightly indignant splutter he earned from his companion were entirely worth it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried not to put TOO many English-isms in here, but it's Peggy so I'm allowed a couple! Still, if there's anything that doesn't make sense to my non-UK readers, just let me know <3

“You finally brought him. I had rather thought that you wouldn’t.” The room that served as Peggy Carter’s home was certainly not what Loki had expected. From the tales Steve had told, and her apparent status as a founding member of SHIELD, he had anticipated a certain level of luxury to the place which was entirely lacking.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Peggy Carter. I have heard much about you.” The lady upon the bed, swathed in blankets and propped up on a mountain of plush pillows, was clearly advanced in her years. She was frail and thin, chicken-bone fingers all too delicate within Loki’s own hand as he took hers to kiss the backs of her knuckles. Peggy had lost none of the regality he assumed she had held for most it not all of her life, even when lingering so close to the end of it.

“He talks about me often, then?” She asked, the twinkle in her eye evident, and as Loki took the single seat beside her bed he could not help but return the mischievous smile that she wore.

“All of the time. In fact, I am fairly certain that you are his favourite topic of conversation.”

“Funny, I could have said the same about you.” Peggy laughed, switching her attention back to Steve for a moment as he lingered just inside the doorway. “Oh do sit down Steve, you’re making the room look untidy.” Steve practically jumped at that, clearly nervous though Loki could not quite comprehend as to why.

“Sorry, Peg. Don’t know what to do with myself today it seems.” He offered her a watery smile and sat, perching upon the edge of the bed, smoothing the crocheted blanket beside him as something to keep his hands occupied 

“Nervous about bringing your new boyfriend to see me?”

“He’s not...I mean, we’re not, it’s…” Steve sputtered, going several very interesting shades of red.

“Captain Rogers, do _not_ tell me you haven’t told the poor boy yet?” Not bothering to wait for his reply, she turned her attention back on Loki, taking hold of his hand in one of her own so that she could gently pat the back of it with the other. “You’re going to have to do _all_ of the work with _this_ one, I’m afraid.”

“ _Peggy!_ ”

“Do not worry, I am certain that I shall manage.” Laughing softly, Loki gave the slender hand that held his own a gentle squeeze, feeling a slight spark of surprise when Peggy did not release him just yet.

“Oh, I’m sure that you will. Just don’t let him drag his feet for too long, he has a terrible habit of doing that.”

“I had noticed. He is quite the stubborn one, our Captain.”

“He mentioned that you’re quite the accomplished cook. To be honest, it‘s a relief knowing there’s someone out there looking out for him; Steve can’t cook for toffee!”

“Does _everyone_ have to know I’m terrible in the kitchen?” Steve sulked, much to the amusement of the other two present.

“It’s only fair to warn him.” Peggy chuckled, switching her attention away from her old friend and watching with interest as Loki produced a small tin, seemingly out of thin air.

“Fear not Steve, your talents lie elsewhere.” Loki hummed, lips twitching in amusement when Peggy all but snorted, covering the inelegant sound with a cough that was clearly put-on. “Despite the time of year not being entirely correct, according to your rather peculiar traditions, I have baked you a batch of what are apparently called ‘Christmas spice cookies’. Steve mentioned that you were partial to them.”

“ _Oh!_ ” Peggy’s eyes brightened and her smile was dazzling as Loki’s deft fingers flipped open the tin to reveal two dozen perfect cookies, cut into various shapes and decorated with pink and white icing. “I haven’t had spice biscuits for years. I really don’t know what to say! Thank you. We shall have to find some plates, they smell delicious.”

“I shall see if I can locate some.” With a nod and a pleased smile, Loki pushed himself up from his seat and strode from the room, sparing a glance for Steve before leaving the pair alone for the moment.

“Steve, you must tell him how you feel.” Fixing an intense stare upon the Captain, Peggy’s lips pressed into a firm line. “You _cannot_ lose this one, not when he so clearly feels for you as you feel for him.”

“I know, Peg.” With a small sigh, Steve moved to sit in the chair Loki had just vacated. “I guess I’m just scared. He’s more perfect than I ever could have hoped for, and I’m, well...I’m just _me_.”

“And it’s _you_ he’s fallen for.” She reached out to pat his arm, giving him a warm smile. “I can see the way he looks at you, he’s just as taken with you as you are with him. You’re worried he might leave you? He _will_ if you don’t hurry up and _do_ something.”

“Yeah, alright.” Steve nodded, chest tightening at the realisation that Loki would not stick around forever, not without good reason to. “Soon.”

Though he had been warned that it might happen, Loki was not prepared for the greeting he received when he stepped back into the sunlit room, three small plates stacked in his hands. “Oh, hello.” Peggy looked up from the tin on her lap, her eyes holding no recognition as she greeted the new arrival, and Loki’s heart broke a little. “Have we met?”


End file.
